WIT AND WISDOM
Obsessive/Compulsive Personality
It's been said quite a few times through the years that I suffer
from a strange form of mental illness known to most psychiatrists,
teachers, preachers, doctors and do-gooder know-it-alls as Obsessive/
Compulsive Personality.
Folks have always poked fun at me and sometimes ridiculed me fer
bein' what they call " out'a one thing and into another". They say that
when I set my sights on doin' something or aquirin' something, that I
get obsessive ........or that I obsess too much..... yea, that's it. I
obsess. Yes sir.
They also are always pointin' out the fact that, at any given
moment, I'm liabel to take a notion to take up a new hobby or new
interest and end up spendin' every wakin' minute either doin it, readin'
about it or talkin' about it. I become totally obsessed!
Like awhile back..... I was in this antique shop. Actually, it
wasmore of a combination antique shop/music store. They sold all kinds of
old furniture, brick-a-brack and the like, and they also sold a few musical
instruments....especially fiddles and banjos.
Now, I love fiddles. Always have. Violins too. And, from time to
time, I'll see one in a store or in someone's home and I'll just stand
there a starin' at it and try and imagine what it sounds like and what
it would be like to be able to pick it up, rosin up the bow, check the
tuning, and just cut down on it right there on the spot. Yes
sir. I find myself daydreamin' about things like that quite often.
Always have.
Obsessive /Compulsive folks know exactly what I'm talkin' about
and Non-Obsessive folks think they do too..... but they don't.....No
sir.....why, they don't even have a clue!
Non-Obsessive/Compulsive folks think that we are the afflicted. We
need help. We drive them crazy. And I can see why we do that.
Anyhow, back to my fiddle story. I was in this little antique shop
and I spotted me this beautiful little fiddle, or violin,. depending on
whether you come from the Opera or the Opry,. and I says to myself right
then and there, "Milton...why don't you quit starin' at fiddles and just
go ahead and learn to play one of the gol-dern things". And so I did. I bought
that little fiddle and took it home and learned how to play it!
Now, learning to play the fiddle ain't no easy task. No sir. It
takes hours and hours and hours of practice, sometimes with sore fingers
and aching arms. Day and night. Practice Practice Practice and more
Practice, And let me tell you one thing right now folks.....drawin' a
bow across a set of cat-gut fiddle strings when you don't yet know how
to play it makes a noise that's about as irritatin' and aggravatin' as any
thing you could possibly imagine. You make that kinda noise around
somebody who's got a short fuse and it'll set'em off like a pack of
fire crackers every time. Yes sir. Why, I had some folks get mad at me
and actually quit hangin' around with me while I was learnin' how to
play that fiddle.
Well, after a few fiddle lessons and a few thousand hours of
practice, I ain't a half bad fiddle player. As a matter of fact, I
even have a couple of VIOLIN songs in my repertoire. And the whole process
took me about 6 monhs. Now, my friends have started coming back around, my
dogs have come out from under the porch, and Ma Crabapple is spending time with me again. And I find
myself playin' the fiddle less and less these days. Yes sir. I know it
won't be long till I decide to obsess over something else....and I can't
wait!
That's the thing that drives Non-Obsessive folks squirrely. The
fact that we "O.C. P.s" LOVE to obsess. We really do. It's what make
life worth livin' if'n you really want to know what I think. After all,
where would we all be if'n it weren't for Obsessive/Compulsive
Personalities? Think about it for a second.
If'n I was gonna hire me a helper do do a job, I'd definetely try
to find me somebody with a good case of O.C.P. That way I would know that
the job was gonna be done and done right. And it would be done as soon
as possible too! O.C.P.'s can't stand down-time.
Yes sir. One thing is for sure...... Obsessive/Compulsive
folks enjoy life to it's fullest. They attempt to smell every flower
they see. They are always on the move.... goin' new places and doin'
new things. (And notice I said 'doin' and not seein') You see,
O.C.P.'s are definitely 'Dooers'. They don't make good spectators in life. No
sir. They have to learn the game and jump in and play!
And that brings me back to my fiddle story again. Why do I
obsess. Well, it's actually very simple. The next time I walk into a
little antique shop and spot me a lovely little fiddle, or VIOLIN, I"ll
ask the storekeeper "Mind if'n I play it?"
And I actually will!
P.S. I asked my preacher what he thought of O.C.P. and he told me
that he had it too! As a matter of fact, he said that he suspected that The
Good Lord was Obsessive/Compulsive. For one thing, how else could He have
created the whole world in just 6 days? And, looking around at all those
faces in the congregation every Sunday, it's obvious that He rushed into
some things without takin' the time to put much thought into it!
Biscuit Sizes
If'n there ain''t a law, well....... there ought to be one. Yes Sir. There ought to be a law that regulates the size of biscuits.
I'm talkin' about regular ol' buttermilk biscuits... the kind you can buy in just about any restaurant you walk into.
The fact is, they come in all different sizes, and, when you order one, you ain't got any idea whether it's gonna be a great big biscuit or a little bitty biscuit .
I have stopped off to eat breakfast at certain restaurants and ordered two biscuits & gravy, and got two biscuits so big that I couldn't even eat one
of 'em, much less both of 'em.
The next time, I might stop at another restaurant and, remembering the last time, just order one biscuit & gravy. Well, if'n I do, you can bet that the one biscuit won't be big enough to fill up a field mouse, much less a full grown human bein'
It just don't make no sense a'tall. If'n a fella pays seventy-nine cents fer a biscuit, why, he ought to get the same size biscuit fer the money, no matter where he goes.
Restaurants ought to be made to put up a life-size picture of their biscuits, or have one on display, so you can see it and know whether to order one biscuit or two.
Eggs don't come in lot's of different sizes. Bacon don't either. I think I'll call the Agriculture Department and see what they have to say about it.
After all, a gallon of gas is a gallon of gas, a pound of butter is a pound of butter, and a biscuit ought to be a biscuit! Yes Sir,
Milton Crabapple
It's A Matter Of Taste
If'n there's one thing that I like to do in this world, it's eat. Yes
sir. I don't reckon I'd do very well on a diet, on account of, I just love
to eat good food.
Now, there's lots'a talk these days about health foods. My Grandma
Crabapple was big on health food even when I was young. I guess that's why
I've lived as ling as I have. It's plain and simple---I eat healthy food!
One thing I am real particular about is additives. I don't want no
additives in my food. I like pure foods--pure butter, salt, lard, fatback.
Of course, I do like a little bit of chicory on my coffee, and "Hot Rise"
in my biscuits, but that's about it for additives.
But, you know, folks don't cook foods the way they did when I was
growin' up either. Lots'a foods that we used to cook are eaten raw
nowadays. Squash, okra, broccoli---why, folks had just as soon eat it raw
as cook it.
And fish! Look what they do to fish. Some folks love to eat it raw,
while some want it burnt on both sides.
It just don't make no sense to me a'tall. Why, everybody knows that
the only way to eat fish is fried!
I was at a restaurant awhile back, and they served what they called
"Blackened" fish. It's the rage with some folks. They think it's a new
way to cook. But I'll tell you something...Blackened food ain't new. No
sir. Ma Crabapple has been blackenin' food for a long time. Not just fish
either. Pork chops, green beans, corn bread. If'n it can be cooked she
can blacken it. And she learned it from her Ma!
I don't like blackened food. It tastes burnt.
Anyhow, I was tellin' you about this restaurant where they served
blackened fish. Well, I didn't eat it. I just drank coffee and ate the
bread.
As I was leaving, the waiter looked at me and said, "How 'bout my tip?"
"Tip... I'll give you a tip... next time, use more grease and less
heat and the fish will be fit to eat!" Yes sir.
Good day and good luck!
Milton Crabapple
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